


White Walls and Note Cards

by classicteacake



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kids recovering from past trauma, M/M, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Sadstuck, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 18:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16749193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classicteacake/pseuds/classicteacake
Summary: Everyone has their own weird fear.Some people are afraid of spiders. Others, mannequins, or the dark, or pencil erasers. They don't always make sense.





	White Walls and Note Cards

God.

 

You’re so fucking hungry.

 

You turn over in bed, draping an arm over the side to search blindly for anything beneath the mattress. Your fingers brush over the wrapper for something and your heart skips a beat- you could’ve sworn you were out of snacks in here, but- oh, nope. Just an empty bag of chips that missed the trash can. You let out a groan and dig the heels of your hands into your eyes as your worst fears set in. You’re out of snacks in your room. You turn back over to look at the empty pillow next to you. Of course he’s gone, he said he was going to hang out with Jade today. Fuck.

 

You take a deep breath before swinging your legs over the side of your bed and grabbing your shades. 1 in the afternoon and you haven’t had breakfast. Your stomach protests vocally to you as you continue to sit there.

 

It’s been nearly three months since the two of you moved in together, into a house with white walls and bright carpet and tiled floors. The design was more of his desire than yours, but you didn’t really mind. He felt more like home than any place ever did, anyways.

 

Nearly three months and you still haven’t brought yourself to go into the kitchen. Alright, no, that isn’t quite true: you’ve been  _ in _ the kitchen, but you haven’t opened the fridge or the cabinets since you moved in. The idea of being greeted with swords or puppet ass has kept you very, very far away, even though you haven’t seen either of those in a long time.

 

John used to tease you about your aversion to the kitchen, but he stopped pretty early on. Even with the occasional suspicious glance he’d throw you, he never put up a fight when you asked him to grab something for you. It became normal for him to bring you food whenever you wanted, and whenever he comes home with groceries you always dive right in to loot those plastic bags when he isn’t looking. He got used to you keeping food in your bedroom, too. Plus, since he cooks so often, you really haven’t had to worry about needing to be in the kitchen much at all these past few months.

 

Until today.

 

You’re out of snacks and he isn’t around. You curse softly to yourself for not preparing ahead of time, and your stomach echoes your sentiment back to you.

 

You weigh your options. You could wait for him to come back home, which could be… hours, knowing Jade. Or you could get dressed to go out and get something, but you really aren’t feeling having to deal with the paparazzi while trying to grab a sandwich from the local fast food joint. Or… you could stop being such a weenie and go get something from the kitchen.

 

Groaning again, you make yourself get up. This is the last thing you wanted to do today. Or this month. Or this year-

 

Barefoot, you make your way into the kitchen. Everything is calm. A blender and a toaster, both unplugged, sit idly on the counter tops. 

 

You chew on your lip as you stare at the cabinet. There’s cereal in there. And chips. And-  _ shit, _ there’s all sorts of food in there, isn’t there? Your fingers drum against the side of your leg. 

 

You continue to stare at the wooden door. You can feel your nerves beginning to spike just standing there in that room, with its white walls and tiled floors. You know your appetite is going to start dropping off if you let it continue, so without putting too much thought into it, you reach forwards, and-

 

You see the inside of the cabinet. There are no puppets. No swords. Just food, a couple dishes, and… apple juice? Hold up, what’s that doing in here? 

 

You take the bottle with surprise written on your face and find a note sitting underneath it. You pick it up. It’s John’s handwriting, written in blue pen (of course).

 

“dave. if you’re reading this, it means you’ve finally gotten the courage to open the cabinet. i am so, so proud of you.”

 

Of course.

 

Of  _ fucking  _ course he’d make fun of you for this. Silly Dave, he can’t even open a little cabinet! God. What did you expect? You’re probably going to open the bottle of juice and be greeted with nasty piss stank. Yeah, John, your prankster’s gambit is really off the charts-

 

The seal on the bottle hasn’t been broken when you check it.

 

You stare at the bottle for a good few minutes, turning it over slowly in your hand, before lifting up your shades to swipe at your eyes.

 

You crack open the cap and take a drink. It tastes good.

 

You make sure to thank him later.


End file.
